


before an immense sky

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Parent Trap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: [Parent Trap AU] Twins Elinor and Charlotte are strangers until happenstance unites them. The preteen girls' divorced parents, Serena and Bernie, are living far apart, each with one child. After meeting at camp, the girls engineer an identity swap, giving both the chance to spend time with the parent they've missed. If the scheme works, it might just make the family whole again. (is this the synopsis from the 1998 film? yes)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotofCoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee/gifts).



> Um, a million years ago [PotofCoffee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee) prompted me to write a Parent Trap AU, and I started poking at it a bit last week and buckled down and started writing it and so this is coming at a very coincidental and weird time but how lucky we are to live in a world where there are two Parent Trap AUs???? Anyway pls enjoy.

Serena Campbell didn’t know she was prone to seasickness. Not until she was on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean and a nasty storm cropped up, pitching waves against the sides, and she threw up her lunch on the very plain, very perfunctory shoes of one Berenice Wolfe. 

“I’m a doctor, I’ve had worse land on me, in worse places, no less,” is what Bernie says wryly, slipping her shoes off and picking them up with her fingers gingerly. 

Serena wants to say that she’s a doctor too, that she’s diagnosed herself with just a mild case of seasickness. Instead, she can only look up a little groggily, a little blearily, and say a hoarse, “I’m so sorry.” Bernie shrugs, offers her arm to Serena and escorts her to her room, Serena leaning on her more heavily than she might otherwise, feeling too sorry for herself to be self-conscious about her reliance on the other woman. Bernie’s barefoot feet pad quietly on the carpet of the cruise ship hallways and Serena’s cheek is pressed into Bernie’s shoulder. Then Bernie stops suddenly, having arrived at Serena’s room, and waits patiently for Serena to locate her key. 

“Normally, I’d ask you in for a cup of coffee, but...under the circumstances…,” she trails off and Bernie huffs out a chuckle. Serena’s leaning on the door handle now, less stable than Bernie’s firm arms. 

“As it happens, I’m just two rooms down. We can have that coffee tomorrow morning, after you’ve had some dramamine. And after I’ve thrown these shoes overboard.” Serena smiles weakly at that, feels the pitch of the boat again and claps her hand over her mouth. Bernie waves at her to go, to get it all out, and softly closes the door behind Serena’s retreating form. 

And from that moment on, it seems as though Serena can’t escape Bernie. She’s there in the morning, to check on Serena’s general health and to escort her to the breakfast set up in the dining room. She’s there in the afternoon, by the pool, when Serena’s sunning herself and enjoying the afternoon heat. And Serena asks her to dinner, a formal affair, and has to bite her tongue when she sees Bernie in a sleek black evening gown, has to stop herself from saying how beautiful Bernie looks, how elegant. Bernie has no such compunction and tells Serena flatly that she’s gorgeous, even presses a kiss to Serena’s cheek, and Serena carries the feeling of that with her all night, her whole body flush with pleasure. 

They kiss for the first time under the stars, a live band playing on the top deck. Bernie folds Serena into her arms and holds her close as they sway to the music. Their lips fit neatly together, like it’s meant to be, and it’s hard not to think of their time together as some sort of fairy tale. 

Things do end happily ever after, for a time. 

They both live in London, they see each other all the time, they have undeniable sexual chemistry. Their friends comment on how quickly they’ve fallen in love, but no one is surprised when they announce their plans to marry. They move to Holby, a smaller town, and they work together at the hospital, Bernie in the emergency department, Serena running her own ward. It all seems idyllic. And they decide to have a child, are surprised when it turns out that Serena is set to have twins, two girls: Elinor and Charlotte. Ellie and Lottie. 

Things unravel a bit, after that. Bernie’s called to join an army medical unit, is told that her country needs her surgical trauma abilities. Serena is left behind with two young daughters and a nanny, trying to hold it all together. 

And then there’s an IED explosion, and Bernie is sent home, her spine in pieces, a huge gash on her neck, and Serena falls apart. She helps Bernie through physical therapy, ignores the curses under Bernie’s breath, the way she seems disengaged, chalks it up to her unwilling transition to civilian life. 

But one day it all gets to be too much and Serena can’t put things aside forever. “You’ll just have to settle for me and the girls!” she yells one evening, “I’m sorry we’re not enough, but we’re what you’ve got.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, and Bernie looks at her, face blank, and walks out. 

Serena doesn’t go after her. 

*

Elinor Campbell doesn’t spare her mother a second glance as she grabs her giant duffel bag out of the boot of the car. “Have a good summer,” Serena calls through the open window and Elinor turns only to spare a brief wave and an eye roll. Mothers can be  _ so _ embarrassing. She gets directed to a cabin, chooses the top bunk for herself and pulls herself up on the ladder, waits for her other bunkmates to arrive, her long legs dangling over the edge of the bed. 

Camp was her idea, something to do over the long summer. She’d found the brochures, showed her mother and convinced her that it was a good idea. Her mum had tried to pull the “how can you leave me for two whole months?” card, but Ellie reminded her that Jason would still be around and she’d have her work to keep her busy. She wanted to escape Holby, do something different, maybe even get a tan (though her mother had stuffed a pamphlet on skin cancer and proper sunscreen application into her knapsack). 

Her cabin slowly fills up, and Ellie smiles and introduces herself, always able to make friends easily. Before she knows it, she hears a loud call over a bullhorn for all the campers to assemble in the mess hall. She hops off the bed, slings an arm around her newfound best friend Meg and they walk together in the warm summer sun. 

The mess hall is full to the brim of campers, all chattering excitedly. Ellie and Meg sit at the middle of a long table, climbing over the benches. The rest of their cabin fills in, already surrounding Ellie, gravitating towards her. She got her charisma from her mother, an easy comfort with strangers that make people respond to her. She also has her mother’s stubbornness, her independent streak, her eyes. 

The daily schedule is announced, full days of swimming and crafts and sports and Ellie just can’t wait to get out onto the lake in a kayak. She pinches Meg’s side in excitement, and Meg flinches, laughs, and all eyes in the mess hall flick to them before the camp dean commands attention again. 

“I’ll make lanyards for our whole cabin tomorrow. Everyone has to know we’re the best cabin at this whole camp,” Elinor announces as they’re dismissed. Meg is on one side, her arm through Ellie’s, and another girl, Andy, has looped her arm around Ellie’s waist. It’s going to be a good summer, she thinks, as they step out into the sunlight, turning her face up towards the sun. 

*

Charlotte Wolfe is a bit homesick. She’s never been away from home for very long, just a night or two with friends. Her mother is one of her closest friends, her best confidante. She travels a lot, works as a locum at various hospitals, has told Charlotte that it’s hard for her to sit still, but that Charlotte should never mistake her wanderlust for a lack of love. She’s home when she can be, and those are the times Charlotte loves best.

Her mum thought, apparently, that it was Charlotte’s turn to go away, to take some time to experience a different world. So she found brochures for a camp she’d gone to years and years before, an institution, apparently, and sent Charlotte off on her way, with a long hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

Charlotte likes the other girls in her cabin well enough, but she’s shy, quiet, not good at making friends easily. She usually gets adopted by a more extroverted individual and finds her way into friends that way. That hasn’t happened quite yet, but she’s trying her best. She’s good at making friendship bracelets, good and fast at tying the knots, her fingers quick and accurate - her mum has told her she has a surgeon’s hands, a compliment that makes her flush with pleasure. One of the girls watches her make a pattern with colored string and asks Charlotte to show her how. 

“I’m Jane,” she says, her face wide and plain, freckles dotting her nose, but she looks kind and she’s sticking out her hand for a shake, like they’re having a business meeting, and Charlotte likes her immediately.

“Charlotte - Lottie, sometimes.” Her voice is quiet, but Jane doesn’t seem to mind, just squeezes her hand and then sidles closer to look at Charlotte’s work. Charlotte wonders if this will be one of those friendships that lasts forever, she’s read books about girls and summer camps and the close bonds that span a lifetime. 

Charlotte’s always been more of an arts and crafts girl, but Jane convinces her to go out to the volleyball courts and hit a ball around for a time. Some of the other girls from their cabin join them, and soon, Charlotte finds herself getting competitive, a trait she’s definitely inherited from her mother - more than one game of poker for pretzels ending in a game of fifty-two pick-up. 

*

Camp flies by, a week gone before Elinor can blink. She’s ensconced in the schedule, always up for whatever activity the counselors throw her way. She’s a good swimmer, slides through the water like a dolphin. She’s good at archery and sport, and soon gets a reputation as the queen of camp, besting everyone at just about every single thing, earning her feteing and popularity. She’s never alone, always surrounded by a gaggle of girls, Meg still her closest pal, arms always looped together. Sometimes people call her Charlotte, and she doesn’t know why, doesn’t know if that’s some weird camp nickname that she’s earned. When she asks Meg, she just shrugs and they both let it go.

There’s a day when fencing is on the docket, something Ellie’s always enjoyed at school. She’s good, too, doesn’t know if she’s the best, though. But she’s willing to give it a fair shot, pulls on the white gear, slides the mask over her face, the short ends of her strawberry blonde hair just visible below the neck. 

She beats people handily, though not that many competitors come up to try their hand against her. She smirks behind the mask, thinks her reputation has preceded her. She’s about ready to call it a day when one last competitor appears. They shake hands, and then Elinor immediately finds herself on her guard, the other girl forcing her into a defensive position right away. She gets backed up against the side of a cabin, and finally cedes the victory, drops her epee and holds her hands up. 

“Good match,” the other girl says, behind her mask, and Elinor can’t bring herself to respond, angry at herself for losing. But the other girl has her hand out and Elinor was taught basic tenets of sportsmanship, so she shakes the proffered hand. 

“I’ll want to have another go, sometime. You got me when I was tired,” she says, knows she’s hiding behind an excuse but doesn’t really care. The other girl scoffs, pulls off her helmet and Elinor blinks behind her mask, because even through the mesh, she can see it’s like looking in a mirror. 

“I’m Charlotte,” the girl says, and Ellie gulps, tries to think of an excuse to run away before she has to unmask, doesn’t know what it means to be confronted with a, for all intents and purposes, twin. But there’s nothing, and she can see Meg and some of the other girls assembling, so she can’t make a break for it. She pulls off her own mask, and there’s a gasp around the group. 

The two girls face each other, both with strawberry blond hair, though Charlotte’s is longer, pulled back into a ponytail, deep brown, friendly eyes, smiling mouths that are currently hanging open in shock, matching right down to slight indent in their chins. Charlotte has pink on her cheeks, burned from the sun, where Elinor has grown into a tan already, having spent most of her time out of doors, but there’s no mistaking the similarities. 

“You’re practically -,” Meg starts, and Elinor whips around, cuts her off with a glare.

“Good to meet you, Charlotte. Surprised I haven’t seen you before. Must be because you’ve spent most of your time indoors. Don’t forget your sunscreen,” she says snidely, and turns away, her hair whipping around her face. She grabs Meg by the arm and drags her away, the group breaking up. She looks over her shoulder once, to see Charlotte standing there, stockstill, her hand still held out from when they shook after Elinor’s defeat.

*

Charlotte has thought about what life would be like with a sibling, someone to spend time with when her mother was away. She never imagined what life would be like with a twin, someone exactly like her, though Elinor doesn’t seem that similar. If she were asked, she’d find a way to say it more tactfully, but if she’s being frank, Elinor seems rude and stuck-up and like someone Charlotte would avoid at school.

It’s not hard to stay away from her - they never came face to face prior to their fencing match, and Elinor keeps her same routine, spending time in arts and crafts, surrounded by the girls from her cabin, in hopes that she won’t run into Elinor again, not until she’s feeling more equipped to deal with it all. 

Charlotte doesn’t see Elinor, not until there’s an all-camp game night, and she’s teaching Jane and a few others the finer points of playing five card draw. She shuffles expertly, deals out the cards efficiently, and doesn’t take any prisoners. The ante is canteen money, just a pound to play, but the stakes have gone higher a few times, and Charlotte has raked it all in, a little mound in front of her of paper notes and coins. “Any more takers?” she asks as a hand ends.

“You’ve already taken everyone, Lottie,” Jane says with a smile.

“Not everyone.” A voice that sounds so like Charlotte’s own comes from over her shoulder. She turns and sees Elinor with a sock full of change swinging from her hand. “Heard you were running circles around people - wanted to see if you were up to snuff.” She easily drops herself into a cross-legged position across from Charlotte on the floor, dumps a few coins in the middle of the circle that’s formed. 

“They say I’m better at poker than I am at fencing,” Charlotte says with a wry smile. Her mother taught her poker, said she’d mastered it in her army days, won more than a few rounds on tours around the Middle East. They’d spend hours playing together, often keeping Charlotte up well past her bedtime, but Charlotte wouldn’t trade those late night hours with her mother for anything.

“They say the same about me,” Elinor parries and takes the deck of cards from where it sits on the floor, shuffles it so quickly Charlotte blinks and almost misses it, only the sound of the cards flipping telling her what’s going on. She tries not to belie any concern over this, just waits patiently for the five cards to be dealt in front of her.

She and Elinor play for a while, the stack of money growing in front of them. They’re both good at bluffing, and Charlotte finds it difficult to stare into what is essentially her own face to see any facial tic that will give away the cards in Elinor’s hand. 

“Last hand?” Charlotte offers after a bit, because she’s tired and because she thinks she can win this one, thinks she might be able to get the pot. “Winner take all?”

“Loser jumps in the lake,” Elinor says, an eyebrow raised. “Naked.” Charlotte gulps at that, barely comfortable being naked alone in her room. But she tosses her long ponytail over her shoulder and nods, pretending she’s as confident as Elinor.

She’s dealt an eight, a nine, a ten, a queen and an ace. She twists her mouth, thinking over what to do. “I’ll take one,” she says and Elinor tosses a card her way. She picks it up and stops herself from smiling, keeps her face expressionless (another talent from her mother). It’s a jack. Elinor takes two cards and her face is as blank as Charlotte’s. 

“Hope you were looking forward to a late night swim,” Charlotte says, placing down her straight, queen high, with smug expression. She can’t help it, doesn’t like to be a poor sport, but finds Elinor more than a little annoying and wants to beat her.

“I think you’ll find you spoke too soon,” Elinor says. “Full house. Aces and sevens.” Charlotte’s face drops, and next thing she knows, she’s being escorted out to the dock at the lake, flashlights guiding her way. She turns her back to the assembled crowd, Jane the only one of her friends standing to watch her humiliation. Slowly she strips off her clothes, holds her arms across her chest and turns to offer a half-hearted salute. It’s the best she can do. She does a straight jump into the water, her toes pointed, and feels the cold water everywhere.

And when she surfaces, she hears laughter, the sound of feet running on the sand, and sees that her clothes have vanished, Jane racing after Elinor and her friends. She stands in the water for far too long, and it’s only when Jane returns with just a towel and sad expression that she emerges, shivering.

*

Elinor hears that Charlotte’s caught a bit of a cold, can’t help but feel a little smug about that. She says something loudly at breakfast about the dangers of late night swims and her cabin dissolves into giggles around her. Jane, Charlotte’s bunkmate, overhears, and dumps her oatmeal on Elinor’s head, under the pretense of tripping.

It continues like this for a bit, quiet warfare against each other, adding an extra element of fun to the proceedings for Elinor. She’s got a bit of troublemaker in her, a bit of an impishness, and finds that Charlotte just brings it out in her even more. It’s that quality in Charlotte that makes Elinor decide to booby-trap her cabin. She gets Meg and the rest of the girls in on it, too. They steal string from arts and crafts, pilfer whipped cream, oil and honey from the mess hall. Elinor gets a bucket of water from the boathouse and practices balancing it on her own cabin door for a full week before she decides she’s ready to go on the full offensive in Charlotte’s cabin. 

They wait for the bed check to pass, the counselors counting them and making sure they’re in bed, shutting off the lights. Elinor counts to one hundred and fifty and then hisses that it’s time to move. They assemble the supplies and creep their way to Charlotte’s cabin, quietly opening the door, tiptoeing inside. Elinor takes great pleasure in oiling the floor by Charlotte’s bed, in drizzling honey on her pillow. Meg festoons the cabin with string, criss-crossing all across the wide open room, tangling and knotting it as she goes. Then, Elinor lifts the big bucket, full of mucky water, and balances it on the door, sets it up so that when it’s opened fully, it’ll tip over the person standing there. And then they creep back to their own cabin.

She sleeps well that night, a smile on her face, but is awoken harshly to the sound of a bullhorn and the announcement that it’s a spotcheck of the cabins for tidiness. She sits up straight in bed, looks at Meg with wide eyes, and darts out of bed, practically bounds to Charlotte’s cabin, where she hears the sounds of shrieks and gasps, and, even, a harried sounding “Elinor!” from Charlotte. 

The dean of the camp strides up to the cabin, Elinor standing in front of it. “Charlotte? Outside already?” she asks and Elinor weighs her options, tries to decide if she can sell the lie. But then Charlotte appears in the window. 

“No, I’m still in here, just got up as a matter of fact. We’re just...we’re just tidying up a bit - maybe our cabin check could be delayed a bit?” Elinor rolls her eyes because Charlotte is always so  _ proper _ and it’s infuriating. 

“The point is to see the cabins as they are, my dear,” the dean says and makes to move past Elinor, who throws out her arms because the last thing she needs is a large bucket of mucky water falling on the dean’s head. 

“Uh, I heard a girl was sick last night. Smelly. So, uh, maybe. Maybe wait?” She says, and her voice is shaky and her lie is transparent and the dean pushes past her anyway, opens the door, and the bucket drops, along with Elinor’s heart.

She and Charlotte are moved to a secluded cabin as punishment later that day.

*

Charlotte barely speaks to Elinor, because it’s entirely her fault that they’re stuck here. The only thing Charlotte’s responsible for is beating Elinor at fencing. And maybe stealing kayak paddles just that once, but almost nothing else at all. But she takes her punishment bravely, sits on her old cabin bed with her arms crossed, a book in her lap, and does her best not to look at the girl across the cabin from her.

The only conversation she can rely upon is their nightly fight over the light switch. Elinor likes to stay up late, and Charlotte would rather get up early, and there’s a constant struggle for dominance over who will win each day. More often than not, she decides it’s not worth it and shoves a pillow over her head, gets her revenge in the morning by flipping the light on with no warning.

And then there’s a thunderstorm, hard and heavy, and it doesn’t matter who’s in control of the light switch because the power goes out. They both fumble for their flashlights and Charlotte finds that Elinor has scrambled up onto the bed next to her. “I don’t like thunderstorms,” she admits in a quiet voice and Charlotte’s heart softens a bit. Then a gust of wind blows, and the pictures Elinor has carefully taped on her wall flutter about the cabin. The overhead light flickers back on, and Charlotte and Elinor both go to the floor to collect the photographs. 

“Any damage done?” Charlotte asks and Elinor shakes her head, piling up the pictures on the small table near her bed. Charlotte reaches for the last one, a torn photograph but before she can turn it over to look at it, Elinor snatches it. 

“That’s private,” she says and Charlotte looks at her questioningly. “It’s a picture of my - of one of my mums.” Elinor’s voice is quiet. “It’s all my mum has ever given her of me.”

“You have two mothers?” Charlotte asks, and Elinor’s face snaps up, like she’s worried Charlotte’s going to make fun, but Charlotte feels like she’s never asked so serious a question in her entire life. 

“I did. They’re divorced. I’ve never met one of them,” Elinor says softly, and Charlotte’s breath catches in her throat. She stands, pulls open the top drawer of the stand by her bed, and pulls out her journal. In the front of it, is half of a photograph. She doesn’t have to look at it, having long ago memorized the picture: a beautiful woman with brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, creases on the side of her mouth, a cleft chin, a wide smile. She holds it out to Elinor, who takes it, her eyes curious, then wide.

“How do you have a picture of my mum?” she asks accusingly and Charlotte shrugs, looks at the floor, stares at it like she could burn a hole through the wood.

“I think...I think she’s  _ our  _ mum,” Charlotte says. Elinor looks down at the photograph, and holds out her own torn photograph. Charlotte grabs it, and doesn’t feel surprised to see a picture of Bernie Wolfe, a happier, younger version of her mother. “That’s Mum,” she says, gently brushing her fingers against the glossy picture. 

“When’s your birthday?” Elinor asks, and Charlotte looks up from the photo, still amazed at the wide grin on her mother’s face, a smile she rarely sees.

“July 14th,” Charlotte says and sees Elinor’s face darken slightly, then calms

“Mine too,” is all Elinor says. “I think...I think we’re twins, Charlotte. Lottie.” She says the nickname and Charlotte feels a lump in her throat.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have a sister,” Charlotte says and sits next to Elinor on the bed, their thighs touching, the rain still pouring outside.

Elinor’s staring at her, brown eyes tracking every movement on Charlotte’s face. She’s quiet for a bit and then says, “You have my mother’s eyes.” That’s what gets Charlotte, and she can feel the tears on her face, because she’s stared at that picture of the woman with brown eyes so like her own for years, but to hear that similarity spoken so plainly makes her feel just a little wobbly. Elinor’s arm goes around her and she pulls Charlotte close, and Charlotte lets her head rest on Elinor’s shoulder, bony, just like her own.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s strange, to go from enemies to sisters in the space of a few hours, but Elinor can’t help the softening of her heart towards Charlotte. A twin - a twin who knows her other mother, the woman Serena will never talk about. They’ve taped the torn picture together, finally the two women in the photograph staring at each other happily, both in white, the perfect moment of their memory caught on film for all time. Charlotte keeps saying how happy her mother - Bernie - looks, keeps looking at it. Elinor wonders what Bernie is like, why Charlotte is so surprised to see a smile on her face.

“She’s sad, a little,” Charlotte says, when Elinor asks. “Not, like. Not like depressed, I don’t think. But she’s quiet and she’s shy and she doesn’t like to talk much. But she loves to play games and to take me to museums. She travels a lot, for work, and always brings back presents. She feels bad about being gone, I think, and always makes it up to me. She’ll take me on picnics, just us two.” Elinor can see how much Charlotte loves her mother - her whole face warms to the topic, her eyes sparkle, just like Serena’s do when she’s excited and happy. “What’s your mum like?”

Elinor pauses, tries to think about how to describe the woman who raised her. “She’s strong. She’s stubborn, like me. We fight sometimes. I have a cousin, Jason. He came to live with us a little bit ago because he’s a bit odd. There’s a name for it but I can’t ever remember what it is. But Mum had a sister, I guess, and she died, leaving behind Jason, and so Mum took him in without thinking, and she loves him a lot too. She’s very protective, kind of fierce about it too.” Elinor doesn’t say that sometimes she’s jealous of Jason, of the attention he gets, of the fact that her mother will set aside everything to watch an episode of Countdown with him on a Thursday night. 

“I wish I could meet her,” Charlotte sighs, leaning back in bed. Elinor nods, then pauses, because she’s had idea.

“You could,” she says and Charlotte lifts her head up, looking at Elinor like she’s crazy. “We could trade places, Lottie!” Charlotte drops her head back with an eyeroll but Elinor already knows that using the nickname is her ace in the hole, that it makes Charlotte more willing to go along with her.

“How do you suggest we do that, _ Ellie _ ?” Charlotte says back, still staring up at the ceiling of the cabin. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but we look  _ rather  _ similar. We could trade places! You could meet Mu-Serena and I could meet Bernie!” They’ve taken to using their mother’s given names rather than just saying Mum and Mum, but Elinor still slips up a bit. “And then we can find out why they split! And maybe - I mean what if we could get them to fall back in love! Imagine, imagine if we could live together, Lottie, as proper sisters!” She’s excited, can feel the fire rising in her, the desperate want she feels for this to happen.

“Our hair is different,” Charlotte says and Elinor can feel her hackles go up because Charlotte is being pointlessly difficult.

“I can cut yours, it’ll be easy! Trust me! And I’ll teach you everything about Serena and Jason so they won’t notice, and you can tell me everything about Bernie, and we’ll just trade places at the end of summer! It’s the perfect plan!” Elinor is really warming to the idea, is already off the bed and looking through drawers until she finds what she’s looking for, a pair of scissors from a basket of craft supplies. 

Charlotte sits up, her eyes wide at the sight of Elinor brandishing scissors, and her hands go to her ponytail, long, reaching to the middle of her back. Elinor has a bit of a fringe, too, and she’s guessing that makes Charlotte nervous too. “I guess this is as good of a guarantee that a haircut will look good on me as I’ll ever get,” Charlotte sighs and Elinor knows she’s won.

Charlotte sits on one of the old spindly chairs in the cabin, in the middle of the room. Elinor’s set newspapers around the floor underneath it to catch the hair. She pulls her own hair, measures its length, and then, with a deep breath and no warning for Charlotte, makes the first cut. A long chunk of strawberry blonde hair falls to the floor and Elinor can hear a small whimper escape Charlotte’s lips. “It’ll be okay. Trust me!” she says, with more confidence than she feels. 

“Just do it. No more talking,” Charlotte says, and her voice is shaky, but determined, and so Elinor does, moves her way around, ending with the biggest cut, with a little fringe for Charlotte, Charlotte’s eyes squeezed shut. Elinor bends down in front of her, at eye level, and brushes back the hair from Charlotte’s face.

“All done,” she says quietly, and Charlotte opens her eyes, and it is, for the first time, quite literally like looking in a mirror. Charlotte puts a hand to her head, feels the short weight of her hair, looks at the damage done on the floor. Elinor thinks she’s getting her head around it all, sees a shift in Charlotte’s face, and then she brings her gaze back to Elinor’s face.

“Right, then. Let’s get started,” she says and Elinor smiles happily.

*

The rest of camp flies by, Charlotte barely even aware of the time passing. She’s learning everything about the mother she’s never met, about the cousin she didn’t know she had, his precise schedule. She tries to impart everything she can think of about her mother to Elinor, tells her about her dog, Cameron - Cam, for short - a loveable poodle who sleeps in her bed every night. “Mum - Bernie - got him to keep me company when she had to be away,” Charlotte says, and suddenly feels a pang of sadness for how much she misses her dog. “Give him lots of cuddles for me,” she says, her voice a little hoarse, and Elinor bumps her shoulder. 

“I will,” she promises, her voice solemn.

The last day of camp is on them before they know it. Bernie is set to come early, an hour before Serena, and Charlotte wonders if they planned that, further ensuring they didn’t have to set eyes on each other, but she thinks that it’s more likely they had no idea that Charlotte and Elinor would be at camp together, not in a million years. She’s still packing up the last of her things when it’s time for Elinor to leave. She pulls her sister into a hug, holds her close, feels tears clinging to her eyelashes. “I love you, Ellie,” she whispers and finds that it’s true. Elinor doesn’t say anything for a bit, just snuffles slightly, and squeezes Charlotte tightly.

“Good luck, Lottie,” she says, and then is gone, and all Charlotte can think of is how like Bernie she is, how unwilling to say the things she really wants to say. 

Charlotte hauls her bag down to the parking lot, waits with the rest the campers. Jane is there, and presses a friendship bracelet and her address into Charlotte’s hand before spinning away to her parents waiting car. Charlotte wishes she could’ve been the one to leave earlier. It’s hard to sit alone with just her nerves and her thoughts. She has a moment of panic where she wonders if she won’t recognize Serena, if she hasn’t studied hard enough. She’s always tried to be the perfect student and she worries it won’t have been enough.

She’s staring down at her hands when she hears a warm voice call out, “Ellie?” and reminds herself that’s who she is now. She looks up and her heart starts to beat a patter against her ribs because in front of her is Serena Campbell, a little more worn than the photograph she’s stared at all these years, but her face is still lit with that inner glow, all because of the sight of her daughter.

She stands, remembers Elinor saying that they had their differences, has to stop herself from barreling into Serena and wrapping her arms around her. She hefts her bag up, brushes her hair back over her shoulder, still getting used to the new length, and walks towards this woman she loves without knowing her. “‘Lo, Mum,” she says, and lets Serena enfold her into a hug, breathes in the floral scent that clings to her clothes and hair, tries to identify the flower but can’t quite place it. “I missed you,” she breathes, and Serena holds her back at arm’s length, takes in her from tip to toe. 

“You’re taller,” Serena proclaims, her eyes bright and happy, her smile warm. “You’ve grown up this summer.”

Charlotte feels herself panic, like she’s done something wrong, like she’s already too different from Elinor. But she just smiles a small smile, and rolls her eyes a little, like she’d seen Elinor do so often. “Sure, Mum,” she says, stopping herself from saying all the other things she wants. Serena just smiles, takes Charlotte’s bag from her and pops into the boot while Charlotte lets herself into the passenger side of the car, and then they’re off to Holby, the beautiful trees and scenery whizzing by, but Charlotte can’t stop staring at her mother.

*

Bernie Wolfe missed her daughter quite a bit, more than she thought she would’ve. She’s left Charlotte behind for work before, more often than she might like, but there’s something different in having Charlotte leave her behind. It puts a lump in her throat and she thinks of the future, when Charlotte will go to university, make a whole life for herself that’s separate from Bernie. But Bernie sent Charlotte to camp, because she also worries that Charlotte will be too scared, will want to stay too close to home. She’s a shy homebody, so like her mother that Bernie can’t help but worry about that too.

She kept herself busy over the summer, working at various hospitals, in emergency departments and trauma centers, always a demand for a surgeon of her skill, but Bernie made sure she had a full week off to spend with Charlotte after camp, just a week for the two of them. She pulls into the camp and sees Charlotte come racing towards her, hair bright in the sun, shorter - much shorter - than when she left, but her face is tanned and happy and that’s all Bernie can really ask for. She scoops Charlotte into her arms, swings her a bit and hears Charlotte laugh, a sound she missed so much. 

“Oh, Mum. It’s good to see you,” Charlotte says, and Bernie feels that lump in her throat again as Charlotte’s feet touch the ground. 

“You too, Lottie,” she says, reaching out to brush the fringe out of Charlotte’s hair. “You’ve had a bit of a trim, eh?” Charlotte smiles, bashful, and looks at the ground, shrugging her shoulders. Bernie slings an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and leads her to the car. 

She notices Charlotte staring along the drive home, she keeps stealing glances at Bernie, her face shy, and looks away every time Bernie looks over. “You all right?” she asks and Charlotte nods, giving Bernie the shy smile that she’s come to know so well. “I thought we’d pick up some takeaway and then maybe you could help me dust off my poker skills? Anybody give you a run for your money at camp?” 

Charlotte smiles broadly at that suggestion. “There was one girl - Ch...Shelby. She was quite good, but no match for what you’ve taught me, Mum,” Charlotte says, and Bernie reaches across the gear shift to squeeze Charlotte’s thigh. She squirms, as if she’s ticklish to the touch, and Bernie can’t remember if she’s done that before. 

Bernie keeps pressing for details about camp, and the friends Charlotte made. There’s a girl called Meg she talks about a bit, and then this Shelby that was so good at poker. “You’ll have to invite Shelby over sometime. Where does she live?” 

She sees a strange look cross Charlotte’s face, and Charlotte says, “Holby,” a city Bernie never thought to hear come from her daughter’s lips. Bernie thinks her face might match Charlotte’s, she feels her jaw tense. Holby is where Serena is, where her other daughter lives, and Bernie can’t pretend that she doesn’t think about that place every day of her life. She tries to make her face blank, a skill she and her daughter have mastered. “How far is that from here?” she asks, though her tone sounds artificial to her own ears. 

“Near Wales, I think,” Charlotte says, and her voice sounds strained too. Bernie is grateful she can pull into the takeaway car park and gives Charlotte some money to get whatever she wants for the two of them for dinner, takes a moment to breathe, settle herself. Charlotte doesn’t know where Serena lives, doesn’t know she has a sister. All she has is half a photograph, and though Bernie feels guilty for that every day, she thinks it might have been for the best. She can’t imagine life without her little shadow, her daughter, the light of her life. 

*

Though Serena is glad to have her daughter back, she feels like something must have happened over the summer - Elinor seems different, a little quieter, more subdued. Nicer, even. She holds the door open for her mother, says a polite hello to Jason. Serena wonders if there was some sort of manners instilled in the campers, can feel grateful for the change in Elinor, though she thinks it’ll take some getting used to. 

Jason, Elinor and Serena all sit around the dining room table, fish and chips fresh from the shop in front of them. Rather than poking at it as she normally does, Elinor digs in, slicing it into pieces, dipping her chips in the sauce, eating quickly and quietly. “Did you get enough to eat while you were away, Ellie?” Jason asks, “You’re eating awfully quickly.” Elinor sets down her fork and knife, drops the chip in her hand to the plate. 

“I ate just fine, Jason,” she says and her voice is the clipped tone Serena is so used to hearing from her daughter, though it hurts just a little every time. Elinor doesn’t eat any more for the rest of the meal, asks to be excused before Serena has finished her wine and practically trips over herself going up the stairs. She opens the door to Jason’s room first, Serena can hear, and then shuts it quickly, going into her own room next. She and Jason just look at each other and she shrugs, because what else can she do in the face of her strong-willed, inscrutable daughter. 

Elinor wakes up early the next day, a sight Serena never thought she’d see. She comes downstairs, brushing sleep from her eyes, wearing just a pair of boxers and a camp t-shirt. She reaches into the fridge to grab the jug of orange juice and then turns to the cupboards to grab a glass, takes three tries before she finds the right door to open. “Been a while,” she mutters and doesn’t meet Serena’s eyes. She drinks her juice, rinses off her glass and puts it in the dishwasher, and all Serena can do is watch, slack-jawed, because Elinor was never the type to do even these little things. 

“What do you want to do today, darling?” Serena asks. “I’ve the day off, so anything you want. Alan’s picking up Jason - it’ll just be the two of us.” She sees Elinor flush with pleasure and can’t remember the last time her daughter looked so pleased to spend time with her. 

“Can we just have a cozy day in?” she asks shyly and Serena can only comply. They head back up the stairs, and climb into Serena’s big bed, Elinor cozying up under the duvet, Serena sinking back into her pillows. Elinor squishes into Serena’s side, lets Serena put her arm around her shoulders. 

“I missed you,” she says, her voice still quiet and small, but her face is happy, her mouth in a small smile. It makes Serena think of Bernie and her heart contracts ever so slightly. She lets herself wonder, ever so briefly, what Bernie is doing now, what Charlotte is like. And then she turns off that train of thought, because to go down that road is dark and painful, and she doesn’t let herself do it, not ever.

“I missed you, too, Ellie,” Serena says, noses into her hair and kisses her scalp. She breathes in and feels the same contraction of her heart again, because whatever shampoo Elinor picked up at camp smells like the shampoo Bernie used, a distinctive scent she remembers even after all these years. “Did you make any friends at camp?” she asks after a bit, when her heart has calmed and she’s just gently rubbing her thumb against Elinor’s shoulder.

She feels her daughter nod. “I did. There was a girl in my cabin, Jane. I taught her to make friendship bracelets. And we did fencing one day, and I was the best in the whole camp, even beat El...Elsa. This girl from Sweden.” Serena laughs and feels Elinor snuggle in closer, cherishes this soft moment, the kind they haven’t shared in so long. “Mum, can I ask you something?” Her voice is so quiet now that Serena can barely hear her.

“Of course, sweetheart, anything.” She nuzzles into Elinor’s scalp again, keeps rubbing small circles into her upper arm. She can feel the tension in her daughter’s body, wants to relax her, wants to go back to just moments earlier when it was just sweetness and light.

“What is Mum like? My other mum, I mean,” she says, leaning back to look up at Serena and her dark eyes are wide and a little scared, and Serena wonders if that same fear is mirrored in her own eyes.

“Oh, why do you want to know, Ellie?” She’s putting her own daughter off, doesn’t know how to talk about the woman she loved so much, the woman who broke her heart.

“I just do.” Her face is open, innocent, and Serena has always found it hard to deny that face.

“Bernie is, well she’s complicated. She’s lovely, beautiful. And strong - she was in the army, you know. So she has scars, inside and out. That’s what made things hard. But she loved you oh so much. She couldn’t get enough of you, held you every moment she could. And she’s smart, clever, and talented. I would’ve hated her if I didn’t love her.” Serena stops herself then, because she thinks she could talk about Bernie endlessly, thinks she could never get her fill of talking about Bernie. She never lets herself do this, has shut down the part of her heart that responds to Bernie Wolfe. She feels wetness at her eyes and feels Elinor reach up to wipe a tear away. 

“Do you miss her?” Elinor asks, and Serena takes a deep breath, sniffles slightly.

“No,” she says at last, though she’s not sure it’s true. “By the way, Robbie’s planning to come over for dinner tomorrow.” She puts on a cheery voice, changes the subject.

“Robbie?” Elinor sounds confused and Serena wrinkles her brow. 

“You know Robbie! I was dating him before you went to camp. Please tell me you didn’t lose your memory over the summer, darling!” Elinor blinks, her face blank, and then her expression reasserts itself and looks a little perturbed. 

“Right, yeah, Robbie.” Serena is saved from having to say anything because her pager goes off, and she pulls away from her daughter to look at the screen. 

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s an emergency at the hospital. Want to come in with me? You can sit in my office and we’ll get lunch after?” Elinor nods, is already half out of bed before Serena’s even stood up. Serena laughs. “Missed Holby City that much, did you? Well Raf and Fletch will be happy to see you, they missed seeing you about.” Elinor’s face goes blank again, quickly, and then it’s the happy grin that Serena’s used to seeing on her daughter’s face. She changes into her work clothes quickly. By the time she gets downstairs, Elinor’s already in denim and another t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she looks so like the girl who went away to camp that any doubts Serena had about any changes her daughter underwent over the summer fly from her mind.

“Let’s go,” she says, linking her arm with Elinor’s and they walk out to the car.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Elinor calls Charlotte after two nights. She sneaks the cordless phone into the bathroom after Bernie’s gone to bed and dials the number Charlotte gave her, hangs up after two rings and waits for Charlotte to call back. She hears Cam moving in the hall outside, hopes he doesn’t make any noise - he’s barked at her twice since she’s come to Bernie’s, and won’t sleep in bed with her. She keeps telling Bernie it’s probably just the smell of camp clinging to her, that he’s not used to it.

The phone rings and Elinor answers it, “Lottie?” and hears an answering shy giggle and knows it’s her sister on the other end, loves that she can know it’s her sister, loves that she has a sister. “How are you?”

“Oh, Ellie, Serena is so wonderful. I went to work with her and she’s just so beautiful and smart and everyone loves her, and she’s just _good_ at her job! I’ve never gone to work with Mum, so to go to Holby City was amazing. _She’s_ amazing.” Elinor stops herself from rolling her eyes, knew that Charlotte would go nuts for her mum, because that’s how everyone feels about Serena. “How’s Mum, I mean Bernie?”

“You were right - she is sad, or something. But she’s good, she’s kind. She took the whole week off, so it’s just been us. I love her, Lottie. I can’t believe Serena’s kept her a secret all these years, I can’t believe I’ve never known her.” Elinor wonders if she’d feel the same way if she’d grown up with Bernie all her life, but just knows how much she loves the woman now.

“She’s the best. She’s my best friend, I think,” Charlotte says. “But, Ellie, I’ve got some news - there’s someone called Robbie? Apparently he and Serena were dating and you didn’t tell me? But that doesn’t matter, I feel like they’re getting serious. And if we’ve any hope of getting our mums back together, we need to do it soon!”

“Oh, Charlotte, I just got here, I’m just starting to spend time with Bernie! She won’t marry Robbie or anything - I forgot about him! What does that tell you about how serious they are?” Elinor looks around the room for something, an excuse to get her out of this conversation. “Someone’s coming, I think Bernie’s awake, I gotta go!” she says and hangs up the phone, silencing any protests on Charlotte’s end. She leans against the bathroom door, holding the phone in her hands. She doesn’t think whatever her mother is doing with Robbie is serious at all, doesn’t think Jason likes Robbie, which is enough of a reason that it won’t last. So she pushes it out of her mind, and stands up, opening the door.

As if prophesied, Bernie is on the other side of the door, hand raised as if she’s about to knock. She’s got an eyebrow raised, looking down at Elinor. “What’s this then?” she asks, and even when she’s facing potential punishment, Elinor thinks she’ll never quite get enough of the sound of Bernie’s voice, low and smooth.

“Uh. Camp tradition. Call your friends from a bathroom. And now I have to go outside and spin three times. I don’t make the rules!” Elinor practically sprints down the hall and out the door into the yard, leaving behind a befuddled Bernie. She spins in the yard, just in case Bernie’s watching from inside, and then sits on the front stoop. It’s still warm, even though the sun has set, and she enjoys the feel of the night breeze on her skin. She still can’t believe she’s here, at Bernie’s house in London, that she’s getting to know the woman her mother has loved all these years, the woman from the photograph. She hears the door open behind her and Bernie comes to sit on the step next to her, bumping their shoulders together.

“You did your spinning?” she asks and Elinor leans into her, nods, and lets Bernie put her arm around her shoulders, hold her close. She can’t remember the last time she let Serena do this to her and feels a little guilty she’s held her mother at arm’s length, decides she’s going to be better, when this is all over. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Just enjoying this,” Elinor says, and it’s true. She sags against Bernie and closes her eyes, breathes in the smell of her, and it makes her think of Charlotte.

*

Charlotte rises early the next morning, and bumps into Jason as he’s leaving the bathroom. He looks at her curiously and she smiles, which only makes the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepen. “Good morning, Ellie,” is all he says, and goes into his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She heads downstairs, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, yawning as she rounds the corner to the kitchen. Serena is already there, wrapped in a robe, making pancakes on the stove. “Sit down, they’ll be ready in just a minute.” Charlotte complies, pulls a chair out and sits, and Serena pulls a face. “That’s Jason’s chair, sweetheart, you sit across from him.”

Charlotte stands, flustered, wishes she were better at this, had the charisma that Elinor seems to exude to make everything she does believable. “Right, right. Sorry,” she mumbles, and moves to the right chair. Serena puts a plate in front of her, presses a kiss to her head.

“Not to worry, darling. You had a whole different routine for two months, it’s natural you’d forget some things,” she says and Charlotte can’t help but smile. She loves Bernie, so much, but Serena is the kind motherly sort that Charlotte often thought about having. She smiles up at Serena, her eyes watering, because she thinks she might love Serena just as much as she loves Bernie, some day.

Jason comes down to breakfast and Serena puts a plate in front of him too, then excuses herself to get dressed. Charlotte feels nervous, to be left alone with Jason. He’s clever, and she thinks he’s already suspicious, but that he doesn’t know what he’s suspicious about. “You changed a lot this summer, Ellie,” he says after swallowing a bite of pancakes. “And you didn’t write to me all summer, like you said you would.”

“Oh Jason, I’m sorry. I just got...busy,” she says lamely, and Jason leans back with a glint in his eye.

“Elinor did write to me. One postcard. It said she was having a good time and that she liked kayaking. Who are you? Are you an alien?” Charlotte claps a hand over her mouth because she thinks laughing at that suggestion wouldn’t bode well for this situation. She settles for telling him the truth, thinks he’s as likely to believe that as much as a story about abducting a camper in the middle of the night.

“Did you know Serena was married? Ten years ago?” Jason nods, and Charlotte sighs, because that knowledge helps. “Well, she didn’t just have one daughter, she had two. Twins. And Mum - Bernie took one of them, and Serena took the other. Serena took Elinor. And I’m Charlotte. And we were both at camp and met each other and Elinor wanted to meet Bernie and I wanted to meet Serena and so we just switched places and...and so that’s why I’m different.” The words come out in a jumble, and she’s not sure she’s explained it well at all, but she just looks at Jason helplessly.

He thinks for a few moments and then settles forward, folding his hands on the table. “That sounds like something Elinor would do,” he says and Charlotte breathes a sigh of relief. “You have to tell Auntie Serena.” He is very black and white, Charlotte knows, and doesn’t believe in, or really understand, nuance.

“I think so too,” Charlotte agrees, because that’s the only way she can really think of keeping Robbie out of the picture. Giving Serena something else to think about, so she puts Robbie out of her mind, that’s the ticket. “But let me do it?” Jason nods, and takes another large bite of pancake.

“It’s good to meet you, Charlotte. It’s nice to have another cousin.” Charlotte smiles, wide and proper, the kind of smile she almost never lets loose, because she thinks that’s one of the best things she’s ever heard.

“I think so too, Jason” is all she says, and looks down at her pancakes to hide the wetness in her eyes because she thinks neither of them is ready for such a display of emotion.

He leaves for work, Alan waiting outside to give him a ride, and Serena returns, pours herself a cup of coffee, and Charlotte steels herself, tries to think of a way to tell this woman the truth. Serena settles at the table, sitting next to Charlotte, and smiles at her with the same warmth from the photograph, the creases in her mouth deeper, her happiness more evident.

“Mum, you know at camp, there were...there were girls from all over? And there was this one girl...from London. And her name…” she feels her voice cracking, “Her name is Charlotte?” Her voice goes up like a question, and Serena sets her mug down, her face pale, her mouth slack.

“Did you meet Charlotte?” Serena asks and it sounds like she’s choosing her words carefully.

Charlotte nods, her eyes wet again, and she feels a tear drip down her cheek. “I mean. I didn’t meet her.” Serena looks confused. “I am Charlotte.”

The silence in the kitchen feels very loud and all Charlotte can hear is the sound of the ticking clock, can’t even focus on how much time passes before Serena pushes back her chair, scraping it against the floor and enfolding her in a hug. “Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte,” is all Serena says, muttering it into her hair and she can feel dampness against her scalp and knows her mother is crying too. She wraps her arms around Serena too, can’t get enough of the feeling of her mother holding her, knowing who she is.

They stay like that, for a long time, and Charlotte can’t think of anywhere she’d rather be.

*

Bernie’s cell phone rings, early for someone to be calling her in the morning, and it’s a number she doesn’t recognize. But she slides her thumb across to answer it, her voice still a little rough with sleep. Charlotte’s been sleeping later since coming back from camp and Bernie’s enjoyed a bit of a lie-in as a result of it.

“Hello?” she says and hears an intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“It’s me, Bernie. It’s Serena.” Bernie almost drops the phone,because she hasn’t heard those words in so long, never expected to hear those words ever again. “And I have some news.” Her voice is clipped, sharp, like she’s just making a business phone call and not like she’s talking to the woman who left her ten years ago.

“What news?” She sounds like there’s a frog in her throat and she wishes she was doing something impressive or noble, not just sitting around in bed having a lazy Wednesday morning.

“I’ve got Charlotte,” Serena says and Bernie does drop the phone then.

“What does that mean, you’ve got Charlotte? Who’ve I got then?” she asks when she’s picked up her mobile again.

“Ellie.” Serena doesn’t seem to feel the need to expand on anything, and Bernie has to dig deep within herself to ask questions, something she was never all that good at.

“How?” is all she comes up with and she hears Serena chuckle softly through the speaker, still loves that sound, even after all these years.

“Camp.” It’s a game now, one word answers only, and Bernie wishes she weren’t feeling so poleaxed, so tired, because she doesn’t think she can match wits with Serena right now.

“I see,” is all she can come up with, and falls back into her pillows because this feels like such a mess, something they didn’t anticipate when they split the girls up ten years ago. “Do we trade them back?”

“According to the terms of our divorce, we have to,” Serena says and her voice sounds sad. “Doesn’t seem fair, not now.” Bernie hums her agreement because it’s true, and doesn’t let herself think about the fact that this is the first time she’s heard Serena’s voice since their divorce.

“How is she?” Bernie asks, because that’s what she cares about most right now.

“Oh, Bernie. She’s wonderful,” Serena says on a sigh, and Bernie feels the swell of her heart, thinks it was maybe a bit cruel to keep Charlotte away from her other mother as well. “How’s Ellie?”

“Still doing her best impression of Charlotte, it seems,” Bernie says and tries to inject a laugh into her tired voice. “She sleeps in later than Lottie, though.”

“Yes, the schoolyear is always a bit of a battle.” Bernie hears the rustle of sheets through the phone, thinks Serena must be in bed as well, tries to picture what that must look like. She doesn’t even know what Serena looks like now, not really, but she would bet anything that Serena is just as beautiful as they day they met.

Silence extends between them and Bernie feels her eyes begin to grow weary, doesn’t want to fall asleep, not when Serena’s made the effort to call. “Let’s keep our girls for bit and sort out what to do - we’ll switch them back eventually, but let’s give them what they want, a chance to know their other mother,” Bernie says at last. Serena agrees, says she’ll have a talk with Charlotte and they’ll figure it out in due time.

Bernie hangs up the phone, and presses her face into the pillow, can’t believe she’s just spoken on the phone to Serena Campbell, a woman she’s thought of every day for ten years. And then she stands up and walks to Charlotte’s bedroom, knocks sharply once on the door, then opens it up.

“Good morning, Elinor,” she says, a little sternly, and immediately wishes she’d picked something else to say to her other daughter for the first time. A strawberry blonde head emerges from underneath the duvet, all mussed and Bernie thinks it’s so like her own tangled head of hair, wonders if bedhead could be a nurtured trait.

“You - you know?” Her voice is small and quavery and Bernie immediately softens. She’s never been all that good at being the gruff parent, a fact Charlotte never took advantage of. She thinks she might’ve had her hands full with Elinor.

“Your mum - Serena - called me this morning. Seems like Charlotte gave your game up.” Bernie comes in to sit on the edge of the bed, rests her hand against Elinor’s ankle.

“She’s not meant for subterfuge,” Elinor says, so seriously that Bernie almost can’t stop herself from laughing. Instead, she squeezes her foot gently, leans in to brush the hair off Elinor’s face, push the fringe back so she can see those deep brown eyes. She rests her hand against Ellie’s cheek and she closes her eyes at the touch, nuzzles into Bernie’s palm. “I just wanted to meet you,” she says, quiet and small, and Bernie’s heart breaks.

“Oh, my love,” she breathes. “I wanted to meet you too.”

*

Jason and Charlotte plan the trip to London, taking care of all the details so Serena won’t have to worry about a thing. She supposes she should be worried about the two of them putting their heads together, but she’s so nervous about seeing Bernie again, it’s all she can think about. She  frets over what to pack, over what to wear. She wants to be devastating, wants to be beautiful, wants to be strong. She lets Charlotte go through her closet, doesn’t even protest that much when Charlotte pulls out a little black dress, something she hasn’t worn for years.

She’s two-thirds of her way through a bottle of shiraz, and she desperately wants a cigarette. Charlotte looks worried, asks Jason if he’s ever seen her like this before. He looks at Serena with an appraising stare, then back at Charlotte and shakes his head. “This is the first time I’ve seen her like this,” he says. Serena knows she should calm down, should be an adult, but she just doesn’t feel mature enough for this.

She’s able to take some time, two days, bookending a weekend. Doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to tie up all the loose ends that are floating around, but it’ll at least be a start, it’ll at least open that conversation. The three of them take a train to London, Charlotte’s face pressed to the window, waiting to see the scenery she recognizes. Serena wants to ask her what Bernie is like, if she’s happy, but doesn’t want to put her daughter in that position.

Her phone vibrates in her hand and she looks down at it, sees it’s a text from Robbie, clears it from her notifications without a second thought, doesn’t have any space to think about him now, her entire being clouded with thoughts of Bernie Wolfe.

“They’re meeting us at the hotel?” she asks, for what must be the fifth time. Jason sighs, looks over at Charlotte, and Serena sees her roll her eyes, so like Elinor.

“Yes, Auntie Serena, Bernie and Ellie will be at the hotel waiting for us.” He has the patient tone of long suffering, as though he’s speaking to someone very simple. She bestows him with a smile, leans forward to pat his knee.

“Thank you, Jason. I’m just a little nervous,” she says and Jason nods, because he knows.

“You’ve got a little bit of makeup caked in your frown lines,” he says, and her fingers flutter up to the offending area, rubs at it self-consciously.

“You look nice,” Charlotte offers, bumps her shoulder into Serena’s, and that helps a bit. Serena wraps her arm around the girl, holds her close, can’t imagine she’s gone ten years without knowing this girl, can’t imagine that she might have to give her up.

The train pulls into the station sooner than Serena would like, she still hasn’t been able to calm her nerves, and she normally prides herself on her ability to keep a cool head under any sort of pressure. Jason takes control of the bags, makes it his responsibility to hail a taxi. Charlotte stays close to Serena, and Serena’s glad of it, glad for the extra support, the extra comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

Elinor tells Bernie that for the last day that’s just the two of them, she wants to have lunch at a fancy restaurant, says that she’ll make all the arrangements. Bernie is finding it hard to deny Elinor anything, especially facing the prospect that they may not see each other for a while, when the dust around this situation settles. 

Bernie finds herself being dressed by her daughter, a simple navy dress that she almost never wears and a pair of low heels that she has only put on once. And then Elinor bemoans the lack of makeup in Bernie’s bathroom cabinets, the dearth of jewelry. “It’s all so  _ plain _ ,” she says on a whine and Bernie laughs at that.

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” she says, “But you’ll have to settle for your old mum looking boring. It’s the best I can do.” Elinor smiles shyly at that, looks like she’s about to say that Bernie isn’t old, but then just shrugs instead. Bernie feels like shrugging must be contagious, her almost constant habit already becoming one of Elinor’s. In the end, Bernie does locate some mascara, a slightly pink lippy, and pinches her cheeks, because that really is the best she can do.

Elinor seems nervous as they’re taking the tube to the center of London, her hands fidgeting, and she’s looking around at everything, can’t settle, isn’t really listening as Bernie talks. She lets it go on for a while, then slings an arm around Elinor’s shoulders, puts her other hand over Elinor’s smaller ones to still them, and nuzzles into her hair. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and Elinor finally stops fidgeting, looks up at her mother’s face.

“It feels like this is the end,” she says and Bernie sees her eyes watering. Elinor is so much more expressive than Charlotte, and Bernie thinks that can only be Serena’s influence. She squeezes Elinor’s shoulders, keeps her close, but can’t think of any of the right words to say. 

“We’ll still see each other,” is what she lands on, but she knows it’s not enough, knows that this is where she fails, why she fails, because she can never think of the things to say when it’s the right time to say them. So she just holds Elinor close and just hopes it can be enough for now.

When they get to the restaurant, Elinor hangs back a bit, lets Bernie lead the way. And then Bernie suddenly stops short, a thin brick wall in the foyer in front of the hostess stand. Elinor bumps into her, looks up questioningly. 

“What is Serena doing at the bar?” Bernie hisses quietly and Elinor does her best to look contrite. Bernie looks towards Serena again, takes it all in. She’s still beautiful, so beautiful. Her brown hair is cropped short, her elegant neck easily visible as she sips at a glass of wine, and Bernie watches her throat undulate as she swallows, finds herself gulping at the sight. Serena’s wearing a black dress, her legs visible, her feet in elegant heels. She looks so proper and lovely, and Bernie suddenly wishes she had put more effort into her looks today. She swipes a hand through her hair, tries to tame it as much as she can.

“You’re...you’re having lunch with her,” Elinor says, tries to paste an innocent expression on her face and Bernie isn’t buying it. 

“This isn’t what we talked about,” she says, pulling Elinor back slightly, closer to the door, and Elinor looks afraid that they might leave. Bernie sighs, thinks that she must have planned this with Charlotte, that she and Serena have raised two schemers, and when they put their heads together, they’re nigh unstoppable with what they’ll plot.

Elinor is saved from answering by the appearance of Charlotte with a young man Bernie can only assume is Jason, the cousin Elinor has mentioned. Bernie can’t stop herself, and pulls Charlotte into a hug, so tightly, and feels Charlotte’s hands lock around her neck. She smells familiar, wonderful, and Bernie can’t believe how much she missed her, didn’t let herself think about it, not until she’s got Charlotte in her arms. When they let go, Bernie sees Elinor looking a little jealous, a little put out, and she pulls her close too, can’t believe she’s holding both daughters at the same time, something she hasn’t done in ten years. 

“You must be Jason,” she says and the young man nods, his stare deep and a little unnerving. He holds out his hand and Bernie shakes it.

“A firm grip,” he says and Bernie smiles. “You’re late for lunch. Auntie Serena is waiting.” 

Bernie twists her mouth, doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t feel ready for this, doesn’t feel prepared to face the woman she left. 

“You can’t stand her up, Mum,” Charlotte says, looking up at Bernie with such an open expression of hope that it almost takes Bernie’s breath away. 

“Go on,” Elinor chimes in, with a nudge. 

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Bernie asks and she’s faced with three shaking heads. Taking a deep breath, she untangles herself from her daughters, and heads toward the bar.

*

Charlotte told Serena that Bernie would meet her at the restaurant, said that she and Jason could just get room service in the hotel, assured Serena that the two of them would be just fine. She believes Charlotte, such a self-assured girl, and she and Jason get along just as well as if she’d been living with him all along.

So Serena sits herself at the bar, orders a large glass of shiraz with a wink and a tip, and nurses the glass, trying not to show how nervous she is, how on edge she feels. She tries to imagine what Bernie looks like now, hasn’t let herself search for Bernie on the internet. All she can think of is long legs and messy hair, deep set eyes and that long, thin nose. She tries not to blush as she’s flooded with the memory of what that nose can do, buries her face in her wine glass instead.

She hears the sound of a throat being cleared and turns in her chair to see Bernie Wolfe. She’s still tall and thin, her hair is more blonde, from a bottle now, Serena thinks. She can see the edge of a scar on her neck, remembers how she came to have that mark. Bernie’s face is inscrutable - it always was, and Serena can’t stop herself from drinking it all in. It’s been ten years since she’s seen this face, she’s worked through her anger, for the most part, just vestiges of sadness and want flirting at the edge of her consciousness.

“I think Elinor booked us a table - unless you’d rather stay at the bar?” Those are the first words Bernie says, and Serena doesn’t know what she wishes she would’ve heard instead, but they make her feel slightly off, a little miffed.

“No, no, let’s eat like civilized people at a table,” she says and stands, taking the glass with her, one final smile for the bartender, who beams back. A look of consternation flits briefly across Bernie’s face before she can tamp down on the expression and that makes Serena feel a bit smug. She wants to say something about still being able to turn a head, but it doesn’t feel right, she doesn’t think she can flirt with Bernie, not yet, not now.

They’re seated at a table in front of one of the street-facing windows and Serena lets her gaze drift out across the street, then does a double-take, squints. “I think our two lovely daughters and Jason are spying on us,” she says, points at the coffee shop facing the restaurant. Bernie looks out too, and can see the two blonde heads in the window quickly whipping away, and only Jason’s face still pointed towards them. 

“Elinor’s proven herself to be an excellent schemer,” Bernie says, with a wry smile and Serena lets herself laugh at that. 

“Too alike for our own good, I think.” The waiter comes and places a whisky in front of Bernie, refills Serena’s wine glass, and takes their order. Serena just gets a salad, something simple, easy, that she won’t have to worry about spilling. Bernie gets a salad too, Serena thinks Bernie’s just following her lead. 

“So. The girls,” Bernie says, taking a small sip from her whisky glass, wincing slightly at the fire in the back of her throat. Serena mirrors her, drinking at her win, wondering if her teeth will be stained slightly purple. 

“It seems a bit cruel to try to keep them apart now,” Serena offers and Bernie nods. They’re briefly interrupted as their entrees are placed in front of them. Serena flicks her napkin open in her lap, and stabs a piece of lettuce with her fork. 

“Trade off years? We each take them both for a bit? I don’t know what the solution is here,” Bernie says, and she sounds sad, resigned to the difficulties in front of them. 

“I don’t either,” Serena says simply, because it’s true. She never would’ve imagined the girls meeting at a summer camp, though it’s not hard for her to imagine Elinor engineering an identity swap. It had seemed cruel to deprive either mother of a daughter, and somehow the idea of depriving sisters of each other had never really settled into their thoughts.

Bernie toys with the rim of her glass, running her finger around the edge, then looks up at Serena through her fringe, her eyelashes flicking the hair ever so slightly. “You look lovely, by the way,” she says and Serena feels her face color.

“Life in the old dog yet,” she says and Bernie laughs, the hint of that donkey bray that Serena could never forget. “Charlotte picked this out for me.” She looks down at herself, brushes an imaginary crumb from her breast and when she looks up, she sees Bernie has tracked the trail of her fingers. 

Bernie clears her throat. “Elinor dressed me as well.” Serena eyes the dress, eyes Bernie’s face, almost devoid of make-up and still so pretty. Her deep-set eyes seem sadder than Serena remembers, her skin a little less taut. Her hair is shorter, but still messy and curly.She looks more lived in than she did when they were married, and Serena can admit, if only to herself, that she likes the way Bernie looks better now, older and wiser. 

They sit in silence for a bit, a little more comfortably than at the start of the meal. “How’ve you been, Bernie?” Serena says after a time, thinks about how long it’s been since she’s said Bernie’s name aloud and seen the other woman’s face soften at the sound.

“All right. Busy enough, working as a locum. Gives me some variety.” Her voice is distant, but her face is still the carefully neutral face that Serena remembers.

“Keeps you from staying in one place for too long?” Serena asks, and hates herself as she says it, because she can see Bernie’s eyes shutter, as if a barrier is slamming down. There’s not much talking after that, just a quiet agreement to split the bill, and then they make their way to the hotel where Serena’s spending the night, walking next to each other, but with so much distance between them.

They are greeted in the lobby by Jason, who is smiling secretively as he greets them, says he’ll send a text to Ellie and Charlotte, letting them know to come down. Bernie drifts away, waits nears the doors of the elevator, and Serena doesn’t know what to say to bridge the gap. There’s the tell-tale ding, and their two identically-dressed twin daughters enter the lobby, and Serena’s mouth drops, because she doesn’t think she’s able to tell which is which.

“What’s the game here?” Bernie says sternly, and Serena wonders briefly what it would’ve been like if they’d parented their daughters together. 

“We don’t want to be separated,” one of the girls says. 

“And we’ll only tell you who’s who once there’s a reasonable solution.” Serena thinks that sounds more like Charlotte than Elinor, but can’t be sure. She looks at Bernie, who hasn’t yet picked up her jaw from the floor. 

“Come on, Ms. Wolfe,” she says, reverting to an old habit from when they worked together in Holby without a second thought. “We won’t solve this in the lobby of a hotel. Why not make plans to come out to Holby? There’s room enough at my house.”

“I remember,” Bernie says softly, because it was her house once too. 

*

Bernie convinces Serena to let her bring Cam with them, says that he doesn’t shed and he rarely barks. She even stoops to saying how happy it will make Charlotte, knows that will seal the deal as far as Serena is concerned. Jason agrees to the poodle’s presence too, and so Bernie finds herself on a train with her dog on a lead, his head resting in her lap. She’s glad to have him, he’s keeping her calm, keeping her grounded. Both of the girls went back to Holby with Serena, so Bernie’s been alone for a bit, and on edge the entire time.

Serena, Jason, Elinor and Charlotte are waiting at the platform when Bernie de-trains. Cam yips and whines at the sight of them, and Bernie lets the lead go, watches him run straight for Charlotte, who goes to her knees to wrap her arms around him.

“Guess we know who is who now,” Bernie says with a twist to her mouth. 

“Wish we’d thought of that in London, eh?” Serena says, holding her hand out for one of Bernie’s bags, and Bernie lets it go without a second thought. 

“It’s good we’re here, I think,” Bernie says carefully, not wanting to be drawn into a fight. With Charlotte taking control of Cam, the five of them troop towards Serena’s car. It’s a cramped fit, and Bernie agreeably sits in the back with the girls, Jason in the front seat with Serena. It’s good, Bernie thinks, gives her some to breathe before she has to talk with Serena. 

They pull into the driveway and the girls tumble out of the van, taking Cam with them. Bernie’s heart sings at the sight of the two of them together, they’re laughing and chattering away and it’s hard to believe they haven’t known each other all their lives. She sees Serena watching them too, can see her feelings reflected so clearly in Serena’s open face. 

Jason seems a little hesitant about Cam, and Charlotte gives him a treat to hold out to the poodle, which he does, very carefully. Charlotte stands near him, watches carefully, and Bernie can see the happiness on her face when Jason doesn’t pull his hand back as Cam’s tongue goes out to lick his fingers. Elinor is cautious with Cam too, but he seems just as happy to see her as anyone, no longer suspicious of the girl who looks so much like his owner but smells so different. 

“We want to make you dinner,” Elinor announces, because they’ve confirmed their identities, even enlisting Jason to quiz them on trivia only Elinor would know to prove it. Bernie is skeptical, thinks there’s something more to it all. Serena’s raised eyebrow suggests that she thinks the same, but Elinor and Charlotte seem so excited that they both acquiesce with a sigh.

They were right to worry - from the snippets that Bernie and Serena have shared, their daughters have done their best to recreate their elegant dinner on the cruise ship, and Bernie now regrets sharing anything with Charlotte. She’s not dressed for it, just skinny jeans and a white button up, and Serena is wearing her work clothes, but they allow themselves to be seated at the dining room table, soft music playing in the background. Jason has been enlisted as their waiter, pouring wine (but unable to stop himself from adding a warning about the dangers of drinking too much). 

The lights are dim and the candles add a romantic air to everything. Bernie watches the flicker of the flames play across Serena’s face, softening it. She wants to reach out her hand, to hold Serena’s in her own, but doesn’t know if the touch will be welcome. She never apologized for leaving, never fully explained why it was so hard to stay. There’s a yawning gap between them now, something that wasn’t there before. She doesn’t know how to reach across it, doesn’t think holding Serena’s hand will be enough.

They eat quietly, and Bernie wishes she could think of something to say. She has to settle for the inane, “How is work going?” and is just thankful she didn’t have to ask about the weather.

“It’s fine,” Serena says, twirling pasta around her fork. Then she sighs, looks at Bernie full in the face, and Bernie sees the exhaustion on her features. They’re both tired of this stilted conversation, of being uncomfortable, of being sad. It’s that realization that makes Bernie reach across the table for Serena’s palm, to hold it in her own, to gently rub her thumb against the back of Serena’s hand. Serena’s eyes look wet, and she clears her throat. “Work’s a bit hard at the moment. I’m acting as Deputy CEO, along with all of my other responsibilities, and sometimes it all seems like a bit much. There’s no one at work I feel like I can talk to about it - Ric Griffin, you might remember him, is bitter about my appointment, and the neurosurgeon is insufferable, and there’s just - there’s just no one to talk to about it all.” Serena’s voice trails off and Bernie hates that there’s a table between them. As she’s about to open her mouth, Jason comes in to clear their plates and put down dessert, chocolate cake, with messy icing clearly done by their daughters.

“You can talk to me,” Bernie offers, knows it’s not enough. “I mean it,” she says, when Serena’s look hardens. “You have my number now, and I’d like...I’d like to be there for you.” Serena doesn’t say anything, just takes a bite of the cake and closes her eyes at the taste. Bernie watches her tongue dart out to catch a missed crumb. Serena’s eyes open and Bernie can see them darken, wonders what her own face looks like, knows she’s not immune to Serena’s charms, that she never will be.

The music changes, the volume goes up, and it’s a Nat King Cole tune, the first song they danced to. Bernie can’t help it, pushes back her chair and stands. “Dance with me?” 

Serena looks surprised, but not for long, and she grasps Bernie’s hand, allows herself to be pulled up, pulled into Bernie’s arms. They sway, slow and close, and Bernie breathes in the smell of her, the florals that cling to her skin, her hair. It’s been so long since she’s held Serena that she feels heady at the sensation of it. She is real and solid in Bernie’s arms, and Bernie can’t believe it, racks her brain for the perfect thing to say, but all she can think of is, “I missed you.” Serena doesn’t say anything, just hums in the back of her throat, slides her hands up towards Bernie’s neck, toying with the strands of her hair.

“It’s shorter now,” she says, quietly, and Bernie chuckles softly, nods, her cheek rubbing against Serena’s hair. She can’t be bothered with long hair, just wants something easy to pull back for surgery, something simple. She never thought about whether or not Serena would like it, but she feels worried about it in this moment.

Bernie thinks she could stay like this forever, can’t believe she’s been without this all these years, and just as she’s about to say it, Serena’s phone buzzes, and she stiffens in Bernie’s arms, pulls away. Bernie can see over Serena’s shoulder that it’s someone called Robbie, and she thinks maybe Elinor mentioned him. 

Serena answers the phone, her voice slightly higher than normal, and she laughs, a girlish giggle that Bernie immediately hates. Instead of waiting to hear the end of the call, she pokes her head into the kitchen and says, “Dinner’s over, it seems. I’m going to head up to bed, if you’re fine clearing.” Her daughters nod in tandem and Bernie smiles at the sight, and goes up the stairs, trying not to eavesdrop on Serena’s conversation with Robbie, though she hears the words “it’s a date,” and has to do her best not to slam her bedroom door.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“What can we do?” Charlotte asks, sitting on the sofa in the living room, her knees tucked up under her chin. She’s toying with her ponytail, twirling the strands in her fingers. Elinor is sitting close, her thighs over Charlotte’s feet. They enjoy the closeness they get to have, so easily found. Cam is up on the sofa too, despite Serena’s admonishments that she would prefer him off the furniture.

“Well, it’s  _ obvious _ they’re still in love,” Elinor says, scratching at Cam’s ears, his mouth open and tongue hanging out in pleasure. “We just have to get them to see it.” There’s been a tension in the air since the evening of the dinner. Serena announced she was going out with Robbie, and Bernie hadn’t responded at all, just turned on her heel and left the room. From what Charlotte can see, her mothers haven’t spoken since, apart from a few words about coffee refills in the morning and what Bernie wants for lunch.

“What can we do?” Charlotte asks. She asked Bernie who was older, and Bernie said that Charlotte had the edge, if only by two minutes, but she feels very much the older sibling sometimes - Elinor is more prone to flights of fancy and dramatics, and Charlotte is much more grounded, reeling Elinor back in. 

“I wish I knew,” Elinor sighs, leans back on the couch with her eyes up towards the ceiling. “Can we torch the restaurant where Mum is going on her date?”

“Robbie’s a cop, so we’re even more likely to be caught,” Charlotte says with a laugh, and Elinor hits her with one of the throw pillows. It only makes Charlotte laugh harder and she pushes the pillow back at her sister, wiggles her toes under Elinor’s thigh, knows how ticklish she is there.

On the evening of what Elinor has been referring to as the Dastardly Date, Serena is fretful, making sure Bernie is all right spending the evening with the girls and Jason. Charlotte watches as Bernie quietly reassures Serena that she is, that there’s nothing to worry about. She puts a hand out to Serena’s arm, squeezes gently, and Serena’s face softens. Charlotte thinks it almost looks like Serena wants to stay, wants to be here at her home, with her family.

Family is a word Charlotte never thought about. She thinks of Bernie, of her mum, and of Cam, her dog, but had never really thought of them as a family, just as a unit. She and Bernie are a pair, a duo, two against the world. But this, here, with her mother, with Serena, and Elinor, and Jason, they all feel like a family to her, and she’s warmed by the thought, and saddened at the thought it might end.

*

Serena gets dressed, a low-cut cocktail dress, leopard print heels. She reaches for the zipper, can’t quite get it, and hears Bernie behind her say in a low voice, “Need some help?”

Serena sags slightly, and nods. “Please.” Bernie comes up behind her, her fingers ghosting against the bare skin of her back, touching the zipper so lightly. Her fingers seem to dance against Serena’s spine as Bernie pulls up the zip closure, and Serena can feel Bernie’s breath against her neck, feels her whole body warm at the sensation, has to stop herself from leaning back into Bernie. She thinks she feels Bernie’s lips on her nape, but can’t be sure because just as she thinks she feels it, Bernie has stepped away, put distance between them. 

“Have fun tonight,” Bernie says, and her voice is hoarse, raspy, either like she’s caught a cold or she’s feeling a bit aroused, from what Serena remembers of their time together, and Serena can’t blame her, because she feels the same frisson of feeling, the same catch in her throat at the thought of them together again. She smooths her hands down her front, smooths the wrinkles from the dress, tries to steady her own breaths. She turns to thank Bernie, but Bernie’s already gone and she hears her footsteps on the stairs.

Robbie is punctual, and Serena is out the door before she can think twice, just a quick kiss blown to her daughters and a thanks called out to Bernie, who is sitting with arms crossed, eyes dark and distant. Serena tries not to feel guilty, tries to recapture the excitement she once felt about the prospect of a dinner with Robbie.

As she’s sitting in the car with Robbie, his rough stubble bussed against her cheek, she pushes out the very recent memory of Bernie’s smooth skin close to her own, the trembling feeling she got at the touch of Bernie’s fingers on her back. Her stomach is in knots, and she forces a smile, though it feels weak and false. He doesn’t seem to notice, just announces they’re going to his favorite pub, that there’s a good game of footie to watch, if she doesn’t mind. She does mind, a bit, but decides it’s better if there’s something to distract him, thinks she might not be much of a conversationalist this evening.

*

Jason is insistent they watch Countdown, and Bernie doesn’t mind, is happy enough to play with him, though she warns him she has nowhere near his skill at the quiz show. “Not many people do, Bernie,” he says matter-of-factly and Bernie huffs a laugh, says she’s sure that’s true. He’s got a scorepad and scratch paper for them both. Elinor and Charlotte settle one on each side of Bernie, whispering hints to her, much to Jason’s chagrin. 

When Countdown is over, with Jason winning by over twenty points, he cedes control of the remote to the girls, and Elinor picks a home improvement show, loudly proclaiming the things she’d like to do to her own house, if Serena would just let a decorator inside. Bernie doesn’t have much interest in open floor plans and people with too much time and too much money, but Elinor and Charlotte seem content, and Jason doesn’t mind, so she keeps her mouth shut. When the episode they’re watching ends, Jason excuses himself, goes upstairs and Bernie can hear the noise from the bathroom letting her know he’s getting ready for bed. She likes Jason well enough, but doesn’t think he trusts her just yet. She’s fine with that, understands that it will take time. She idly thinks that she’s willing to put in that effort, then pulls the thought back, because she doesn’t even know if she’ll be allowed to. It feels too good to be real that she’s getting the time with Serena and Elinor that she’s getting now.

Charlotte puts on a movie, has picked out An Affair to Remember, and Elinor puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Bernie excuses herself to use the bathroom during the lull of activity on the television and takes a moment to breathe, to remind herself that she’s all right, that she deserves this time with her daughters. She splashes water on her face and tries not to think of Serena on a date with this Robbie fellow. 

Bernie can’t stop herself from asking Elinor what she thinks of Robbie. “He’s...fine,” Elinor says. “I can’t tell how much Mum actually likes him and how much it’s just that he’s...there. Jason doesn’t like him.” That little tidbit of information ignites a little flame in Bernie’s chest and it buoys her to sit in the middle of the couch and her daughters come over readily to sit on either side. Charlotte settles back into Bernie’s side, her head pressed into Bernie’s shoulder. Elinor is a little more removed, but lets Bernie put an arm around her shoulders, smiles up at her. 

The movie is long, and Bernie doesn’t have the heart to enforce a strict bedtime. The girls both drift off, and Bernie is left to watch Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant by herself, finds herself getting caught up in the emotion of the story, her eyes a bit wet. She hears the key turn in the door, can’t wipe at her face without disturbing Elinor and Charlotte, so just sucks in her breath and tries her best to look unaffected.

When Serena comes into the living room, however, her face is _ far _ from unaffected. At the sight of Bernie with a sleeping girl on each side, her face seems to soften, melt almost, and Bernie gives her a small smile. “Want to help me take them to bed?” Serena asks in a low whisper. Bernie nods, turns slightly to scoop Elinor in her arms, and Serena picks up Charlotte. They’re almost at the limit of being too big to carry, and Bernie is determined to enjoy it while she can.

Elinor and Charlotte are sharing a room, by their request, and Serena places Charlotte gently on the air mattress on the floor, pulls the quilt up to her chin, kisses her forehead. Bernie mirrors the action with Elinor, brushes the hair from her face. She pauses in the doorway to look at them both, and then they leave the room, Serena closing the door quietly after them. Bernie is right behind her, can’t help herself, feels a little breathless at their proximity. She leans in, the scent of Serena drawing her closer and she almost presses her lips to the long vein in Serena’s neck. Serena doesn’t seem particularly bothered, Bernie can feel her sigh, feels her lean back ever so slightly. But then, just as she’s about to move forward, Serena stiffens, takes a step away and looks at Bernie with dark eyes searching her face. “What is this, Bernie?” she asks, and Bernie wishes she had an answer for her.

*

Serena feels a little off-kilter, a little out of her depth. So she does what she does best and ushers Bernie back to the living room and pours them each a glass of wine. “How was your date?” Bernie asks, and her jaw is tight, her eyes almost angry, and Serena can’t believe that Bernie is showing this much emotion, that she’s being this candid. With anyone else, it would seem witholding, but with Bernie, it’s practically as if she’s screaming her feelings.

She decides to be honest in her answer, because she can’t be anything else, won’t be anything else, even if it scares Bernie away. She can’t spend her life treating Bernie like a newborn fawn. “I spent a lot of it wishing I was here.” She pauses, bites her lower lip before adding, “With you.” She flicks her eyes up to Bernie’s face, and sees the sadness there, but also, she thinks, a tinge of want. 

“You could’ve helped with Countdown - Jason beat me all too easily,” Bernie says softly and Serena laughs at that, reaches out to pat her shoulder, but her hand lands a little clumsily, and it ends up more of a caress. She pulls her fingers back, fists them in her lap. She sees Bernie’s hand twitch, as though Bernie wants to reach for Serena’s palm.

“I’m never much help in that arena, I’m afraid. I think that’s half the appeal for him,” Serena says, and it’s Bernie’s turn to chuckle. Serena sips her wine, lets the liquid swirl in her mouth as she leans her head back against the couch cushions. “What do we do, Bernie?” she asks, twisting her neck slightly, looking at the other woman.

She thinks Bernie is stopping herself from shrugging, holding her frame stiffly. Instead, she swipes a hand through her hair, rests an elbow on the back of the couch, holding her fringe out of her face, her features as open as they ever are. Bernie doesn’t pretend this is a question about the girls. They have to sort themselves out before they can decide what to do with their daughters. “Can we - I mean - Is it too much to hope that - Can we try again?” She looks so hopeful and sad all at once and Serena has to stop herself from reaching out to caress her cheek, to let her hand drift down to her neck, to feel Bernie’s skin.

“What’s different? What’s to say you won’t leave again?” Serena asks and knows her tone is bitter, harsh, but thinks it’s important, thinks Bernie can’t be let off the hook that easily, that she needs to face the music head on. 

And for Bernie’s part, Serena can see her gulp, can see it in her face when she makes the decision to be honest and open. “You told me that you were all I had, that you and the girls were what I had, and it scared me, Serena. It scared me so much. I was so in love with you - I  _ am _ so in love with you - and I was ruining it, and I couldn’t stand it, and I left. And you never came after me.” Her voice is small and ashamed and embarrassed, and this time Serena lets her hand reach between them and cup Bernie’s cheek.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.” She thinks of Bernie as the macho army medic, the one who comes in to save the day, to do the rescuing, and never for a minute thought that Bernie is the one who might need to be rescued. 

“It seemed easier, back then, to run. I don’t feel that way now, Serena.” Her voice is soft on Serena’s name, a beautiful sound that Serena has missed so much. Her thumb rubs against Bernie’s cheek, her fingers gently settling behind her earlobe, and Bernie leans into the touch, closes her eyes ever so slightly. “The only running I want to do is towards you.” Her face flushes at the sentiment, but Serena smiles at it, uses her hand to tilt Bernie’s face so they’re looking at each other. And then it seems the easiest thing in the world to lean in and place her lips to Bernie’s, to kiss her so gently, so sweetly that she thinks it might break her. But Bernie kisses back, just as softly, and Serena lets herself believe that it’s going to end happily.

***

The early morning sun filters in through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow. Bernie opens her eyes, blinks slightly at the light, and looks down at the brunette head burrowed into her side. There’s a patch of drool on the pillow where her head has been, and her arm is asleep from where Serena’s been sleeping on it all night. Bernie leans down, noses into Serena’s hair, and she stirs awake, looks up at Bernie with a smile, her face still bleary from sleep. But she leans up, places a kiss on Bernie’s lips, morning breath and all.

“Good morning,” Bernie says softly and Serena’s smile widens. “How much time do you -” She’s interrupted by the bedroom door opening and Elinor and Charlotte bounding into the room, Cam trailing them, tail wagging, tongue out. Without pausing, the girls jump on the bed with their mothers, hugging them, just a pile of long limbs and warm bodies.

“Happy anniversary!” they chime together and Bernie laughs, trapped under the weight of her daughters. She turns to look at Serena, beaming widely herself, and reaches out to grab Serena’s hand, to interlace their fingers, to squeeze tightly. It seems impossible that this is her life, impossible that she should be this lucky. She arches her body to kiss Serena, fully prepared to hear the groans of Elinor and Charlotte at the sight, but doesn’t care, even risks slipping her tongue between Serena’s lips, sliding into Serena’s mouth, and Serena doesn’t even bother to stop the slight moan at the contact. 

“Ew,” Charlotte comments, almost conversationally.

“Gross,” Elinor agrees, but her face is still happy, grinning, and Bernie thinks that whatever else happens, it’s worth it to see the smiles on her daughters’ faces.

“Are you happy, Mum?” Charlotte asks from her perch atop Bernie’s knees. 

“Yes,” Bernie and Serena answer in unison, laughing. “Are you happy?” Bernie asks.

“Yes.” Charlotte’s and Elinor’s voices sound in tandem, and all four of them are a pile of laughter, giddiness burbling up between them. It feels like the happy ending they should’ve had, all those years ago, and Bernie tries not to feel guilty for depriving them of this time, tries to tell herself that this is the journey they had to take to get to this moment now. She looks at her daughters, at Serena, and lets her joy break out across her face, can’t hide the happiness she’s feeling, doesn’t want to.

“Are they awake yet?” Jason’s voice comes up from the downstairs, “Breakfast is ready and I don’t want to burn the bacon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky." - Rainer Maria Rilke


End file.
